


Excuses

by Besin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Anxiety Meltdowns, Bad Sex, Blowjobs, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Injuries, Oral Sex, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-02-16 06:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13048305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Besin/pseuds/Besin
Summary: Prompto just wanted to lose his virginity. Then he wanted to get good at sex. Then... Well, sex makes everything complicated.AKA: The Bad Sex AU.





	1. Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by the ever lovely [Coffee](http://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com).

It started with a night on the town. A rare outing with Noctis that led to a club that led to a dance floor that led to a few drinks that led to Prompto overhearing a sentence that would change his life.

“The way people dance, you can always tell apart the virgins,” someone had said with a derisive laugh.

And that thought dominated Prompto’s life for a good month.

He thought about it in the shower. Going to sleep. Even on the job, when he was supposed to be paying attention to Noctis and everyone around them. (Not that anyone recognized Noctis or anyone ever pulled anything.) Eventually, though, he had enough and went to an “expert.” That brings us to now. To the front of a nice apartment in a nice building in the nice part of town.

“It’s a bit late,” Ignis drawls, standing in his doorway in a overlarge bathrobe covering clear from his neck to his ankles.

Prompto winces. “Sorry,” he apologizes softly. “I just… I should have called or something.”

Eyebrows arch, but lips twitch in the beginnings of an earnest smile. Stepping to the side, a tanned hand motions him in. “Come on. I won’t leave you sitting in the hall now that you’re here.”

“Yes. Cool,” is the nervous reply. Moving over the divider, he steps into the neat apartment, pale hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he listens to the door close in his wake. “So, like… You know a lot of stuff.”

“I have a rather broad knowledge of a lot of topics due to the requirements of my job, yes,” Ignis acknowledges almost smugly, locking the door and stepping further into the room.

“Do you know much about dancing?”

Snatching up a small glass from the counter, Ignis looks the very picture of wealth. “Ballroom, yes, if that’s what you’re asking after. Though I have a feeling this is about another topic.”

Prompto nods quickly. “See, last month Noctis and I were at this club-”

“Of course you were.”

“- and I overheard some guys talking about, like… how you can tell who the virgins are by their dancing.”

“I highly doubt you can derive anyone’s sexual history from their dancing habits,” is the dry retort.

“Yeah, yeah, but like… It got me thinking. How do people  _ actually _ lose their virginity?”

Ignis made a face. “I imagine they usually have sex.”

“You know what I mean.”

Green eyes turn on the counter for a moment before gently turning back to Prompto. Voice even, he says, “They find someone they trust and ask them to have sex.”

“Is that what you did?”

“Are you asking about how I lost my virginity?”

“Uh… yeah? Lay it on me. Story time. Let’s go. Please and thank you.”

Taking a deep drink from his glass, Ignis motions to the couch. “Take a seat,” he requests softly as he steps back into the kitchen.

Prompto does so, circling the living room to plop down on the couch as he watches Ignis refill his glass.

Scotch. Huh.

Before long the man settles into the chaise across the living room and Prompto feels very much like a therapist at this moment.

“I was eighteen,” he began softly. “A friend of mine had been getting a touch close, and we decided to come up to my apartment for a movie. It wasn’t planned, and I hadn’t had any intentions for the evening. But as the film went on, I felt his hand settle on my knee, and I had been too unsure to say anything. Slowly his hand moved up to my thigh. Then further. And as things went beyond that – when he moved in for kisses and the like – I let it happen.”

“That… doesn’t sound very fun.”

“It was fun after a while, but I was still rather indifferent to the company.”

Prompto’s lips pursed. “I mean… Whatever.” He sighs. “I can’t do it with Noctis, though. He’d make it  _ weird _ .”

Ignis laughs at this, easing back into the chaise with his glass. “That’s one thing to take away from this, I suppose,” he mutters before taking a deep drink.

“What about you?”

Ignis almost chokes, drawing his glass away from his lips with a sharp, half gargled, “Pardon?”

“What about you? I trust you. You wouldn’t make things weird.”

There was a long silence, followed by a terse, “I suppose… you’ve got a point.”

Prompto blinks. “Well, that was easy.”

Setting his glass on the coffee table, Ignis breathes a sigh. “I’m a touch out of practice,” he begins softly, “but I’m not too put off by the situation. We’ll have to decide who’s partaking in something up the bum.”

A pale hand shoots through the air. “Me,” he volunteers quickly. “I’d totally take one for the team.”

Slow and unsure, a nod follows. “Very well, then,” Ignis agreed softly. “Then I have a few questions to ask you.”

The next half hour consists of a very in-depth conversation about greasy foods, types of lubrication, stretching regimens, and not rushing things.

“If you rush there will be blood,” Ignis says firmly. “If you go too far too quickly there will be blood. If anyone screws up there will be blood. If you forget any steps there will be blood. If we do everything perfectly and to a T, there might still be blood, and I will insist on a visit to a clinic.”

Then they pull out their phones and bring up their calendars.

“So… a month?” Prompto quotes softly. “This is going to take a month?”

“Just to be safe,” is the cautious reply. “We have no way of knowing how well you’ll react to the plugs and stretching.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool. My virginity has a month to live. This, uh… Cool.”

And that, as they say, is that.

…

The sex shop is clean and orderly and shady as fuck when Prompto finally steps through the doors.

“They’ve got a prime selection of training plugs,” Ignis had said. “You’ll easily find something for beginners.”

Going by the wall of dildos literally hammered into place like a macabre social criticism art piece, Prompto steps up to the main counter and stares the employee in their purple silk dress shirt down. “I’m looking for an anal training butt plug set,” he manages with every ounce of courage he’s been saving up since elementary school.

“You want this one,” the cashier replies dryly, pulling out a small set from beneath the counter. “Just got them back in today. They sell out quick. They’re gentle on the butt and come with a cleaning kit. I suggest you use them with condoms.”

“Okay,” Prompto replies with the remaining scraps of bravado, paying for the set and walking straight out of the shop with his purchase in an opaque black bag.

…

His apartment is empty, as usual, and while this is usually a source of anxiety it is a blessing as Prompto closes the door, locks it, and immediately begins stripping off his clothes. He crawls into the bathtub with the lube and the first plug from the newly ripped open kit, sliding a condom over the top and placing it against the rim of his ass. Then, slick hand bracing against the edge of the tub, he slowly begins to sink down.

It’s a good ten minutes before he thinks to grab his dick. Before he gives it a few gentle pulls and comes across the tub floor faster than he’s come in a while. He lays back in the tub afterwards, moving back against the plug braced against the ball of his foot, attempting to ignore the growing cramp in his leg. It’s not the best sensation, feeling strange at best, but excitement rises in him hot and fast.

In three weeks he’s going to lose his virginity.

…

Noctis squints. “You’re squirrelly.”

“I’m not  _ squirrelly _ ,” Prompto denies quickly, rising from the diner seat. “I just need to take a leak.” Striding across the room, he pushes open the bathroom door and locks it behind him, eyes turning on the erection straining at his jeans. Reaching around, he pushes against the seam of his ass, feeling the plug move inside him. Moving over to the toilet, he undoes his pants and pulls out his swollen cock, peering down at it angrily as he slowly, surely, manages to take a leak. “Soon,” he tells it. “Soon.”

By the time he steps back into the diner, his erection has waned enough to fit back in his over-tight pants. Carefully easily back into his seat, he stabs his salad with a fork before asking, “So, where to next, boss?”

Noctis groans. “Apparently I have a meeting in an hour? But Ignis said I could skip if I really wanted.”

“You say that, but did he really?”

Another groan. “Okay, he said it was vital, but I want a  _ nap _ .”

Prompto swallows the leaf with a snort. “So Gladiolus is waiting for you at the citadel, then.”

“I don’t  _ want _ to.”

…

Gladiolus is waiting for them on the steps when they pull up in the car, wearing a tight expression.

Noctis sighs a sharp, “Changing of the guard.”

“Literally,” Prompto put in, then glances at his phone. “Well, my shift is over. Have a good meeting, guys!”

“Yeah. Good.”

And with that, Prompto hops back in the car and drives to a nice part of town.

…

Waiting for the elevator to open feels like an eternity, but eventually it opens and Prompto half sprints down the hall to a familiar door, knocking three times.

A few seconds later, Ignis opens it, expression slightly baffled. “Prompto?”

“I got my test results. Wanna look?”

“Test?”

Prompto’s expression falls as all of him seems to deflate. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

Slowly, realization dawns. “No, no,” Ignis defends softly. “I just… hadn’t expected you until later in the day.”

“I mean, I could come back later?” Prompto suggests quietly. “But Noctis wants to go to the arcade tonight, so the only time I really have is immediately after my shift.”

A soft but firm, “Ah.”

Slowly, Ignis steps aside, allowing Prompto into the apartment.

Prompto hands over his paperwork quickly, only for Ignis to excuse himself and head off into another room, returning quickly with his own and handing it over.

A cheeky grin follows. “So neither of us have any STDs. Cool,” Prompto notes.

“Would you like this in the living room or the bedroom?” Ignis asks.

“Um… no preference.”

Shrugging, Ignis looks coolly away. “It’s your virginity,” he drawls, then reaches for the buttons of his shirt. It’s discarded on the couch without much thought, revealing a trim chest. “What’s your stance on kissing?”

“It’s… good?”

“Good.” And with that, Ignis strides forward, takes hold of Prompto’s hoodie, and drags him up into a kiss.

Prompto tries not to flinch as a tongue suddenly invades his mouth. Is this a normal amount of tongue? He isn’t sure. He just feels like he’s being assaulted between his teeth. It’s deep and sharp and far more than he was expecting, not sure how much he should reciprocate. As they pull apart, he finds himself nervously asking, “Is the first time usually good?”

“In my experience, no,” is the terse reply as tanned hands fit beneath the hoodie and shove it off over narrow shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. He reaches for the hem of Prompto’s tank top, tugging it up. “It takes a while to get to know what a person likes. If it helps, I’m determined to get you to enjoy this.”

“Cool,” Prompto says, not for the first time. He pushes down panic as his jeans are worked on and pushed down his hips. As his shirt is discarded at last and his socks toed off onto the floor. Then he’s naked, watching as Ignis pulls away and undoes his belt and the fly of his slacks. And Oh.

_ Oh _ .

Ignis wears stocking garters.

Prompto doesn’t know what to do with this information.

They come off quickly, along with tight briefs and long, long socks that fall down thick thighs to reveal hairy legs.

Prompto’s corralled toward the couch, lips pressing sharp to his as he stumbles back into the cushions. He gasps as Ignis reaches down, slowly pulling the plug from his ass with the patience of a chaotic god as peachy lips purse against the sensation, little whimpers fighting from his throat as he stretches to accommodate the body of the plug.

“How long have you had this in?”

“Since before work.”

“So eight hours.”

“Closer to nine.”

“Must have been hard.”

Prompto gaped. “What did you just say?”

Ignis grinned. “You heard me.”

Jaw locked halfway open, Prompto watches, transfixed, as Ignis rises and reaches down for his pants, retrieving a single condom packet. He tears it open quickly, rolling it on his circumcised cock with a light hiss before slowly positioning himself. “Ready?” he asks.

A quick nod follows. A low, “Yes,” that fills the space like a muffled foghorn.

And then Ignis pushes forward, cock sliding easily into the stretched, gaping hole before him until he’s seated fully inside. “Well,” he breathes, shocked. “That was easier than usual.”

Prompto tries not to squirm. Ignis was warmer than the plugs, and a different shape, and  _ longer _ . It was strange to feel someone so far inside him. Strange to see a slight bulge in his stomach that he’s pretty sure is Ignis’ cock.

And then Ignis starts moving.

And it kind of sucks.

Prompto isn’t sure what to do. Can barely breathe between thrusts. It’s decidedly… lackluster. He’d been excited by the plugs, but now that he has someone inside him it’s almost… a disappointment.

Pale lips purse above him, and Ignis grunts. “This isn’t working,” he says wetly, hips drawing to a pause. 

“Bed?”

“Bed.”

They pull apart, stumbling down to the hall before Ignis opens the bedroom door wide. “How about you be on top this time?” he suggests. “Then you can find something you like?”

Only he doesn’t.

They’re flush together when Prompto gives up half an hour later, dick soft against his leg as his hips work feverishly against the man beneath him. “I can’t,” he gasps, legs giving out beneath him as his hands fall to the mattress. “This isn’t working.”

“We could try another angle.”

“You aren’t enjoying this, either,” Prompto half snaps, drawing off Ignis’ cock to collapse against the bed, breathing heavily. “I wonder… Do you think I’m just bad at sex?”

“It’s not the easiest thing in the world,” Ignis half squeaks, reaching down to half rip off the condom and grip his cock loosely, giving it a few sharp strokes before working up a rhythm.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t have an answer,” is the distracted reply, punctuated by a sharp grunt as he came across his chest. For a moment all that can be heard are his deep, sated breathes in the silence of the room. “I don’t have an answer for you,” he repeats again. “I’m just a man probably just as bad at this as you are.”

Rolling back onto the bed, Prompto snorts, eyes fixing on the ceiling. “Gods. Nothing can be crystal clear, can it?”

Rising up slowly, Ignis snatches up a tissue from the bedside table, then wipes himself down quickly before turning to Prompto. Then, bending forward, he presses his lips firmly to plump pink ones.

Pale cheeks flush. “What was that for?” he asks.

Green eyes seem to sparkle in the low light as he says, “For trusting me with this.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s clean up, shall we?”

“Uh… Sure.”


	2. Dinner

The café is bustling. The lunchtime rush hits just as Ignis settles down in his seat across from a very skeptical Aranea.

“What did you do last night?” she asks dramatically, motioning to his face. “You look so _wan_.”

“Do I?” Pulling out his phone, he turns the camera on himself and frowns at the bags under his eyes.

“Yeah. Another late night working?”

Tucking his phone away in his pocket, he shakes his head firmly. “Honestly, I took your advice and got…” He pauses, eyebrows screwing up. “How did you phrase it? ‘A bit of tail?’”

Aranea lifts her coffee, eyes widening in amusement. “Now _that’s_ what I’m talking about, Iggy. Tell me; who’s the lucky man? One night stand or will there be more?”

“It’s nothing you should concern yourself with,” he replies softly. “It was a disappointment more than anything else.”

“A disappointment?” she repeats, leaning back in her chair. She takes a long sip of her coffee before setting it beside her plate. “Must have been pretty bad.”

“It was.”

“So who was it? The Prince?”

“Hardly.”

“The Amicitia boy? I mean, he’s a bit brash, but quite the specimen.”

“Aranea, please.”

“Fine, fine. So how big of a disappointment was it? Like, are we talking just ‘not compatible’ or ‘fake dick padding’ levels of bullshit?”

“It was just… terrible.”

“Really?”

“I had to jerk myself off to finish, and we’d had weeks of preparation.”

“ _Weeks_? Ignis, what kind of arrangement was this?”

He clears his throat, staring down at his coffee for a moment before stabbing at his salad with a rushed, “I was helping him lose his virginity,” before shoving the leaf into his mouth.

Aranea’s eyes roll at this. “Well of _course_ it’s going to be terrible. Loss of virginity is never fun.”

“Yes, well…” Looking up bravely, she turns back to his salad at the curious look on his companion’s face. “He was all prepared, and I was in the mood. I just… We couldn’t find any good angles. He was too…” He pauses. “Or maybe it was me. I’m not sure what the problem was. Maybe it was that we were both… not suited.”

Grinning widely, Aranea laughs. “Well, anything could have happened. Either way, congrats for finally putting yourself out there, temporary as it is.”

“I’m not ‘out there,’” he defends softly. “This was simply a favor to a friend.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell yourself that.”

Ignis frowns.

…

Ignis is barely out of the elevator when he spots him – Prompto – waiting outside his apartment door. He approaches quickly, firing off a low, “You could have texted.”

Prompto looks up, surprised. “Oh,” he squeaks, rising quickly to his feet. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean… I’ll just…”

“Is there something you wished to talk about?”

“Can we… talk about it inside?” he asks, motioning to the door.

Ignis nods, then unlocks it quickly. They both step in, and he watches Prompto look nervously around as he closes the door and locks it.

“So…” he begins softly, fidgeting with the hem of his tank top. “Yesterday kind of… bombed.”

Eyebrows screw up at this. “You aren’t injured, are you?”

“No. No, I’m fine. Barely even sore. I just… It was… bad.” Slowly, Prompto takes a breath, nose flaring as his eyes fix on the kitchen across the room. “It was _really_ bad, and I just… I wanted to be sure that’s not what it’s like, you know? I’m…” He coughs. “I’m kind of freaking out. Everyone says it’s this great thing and what if something’s just wrong with me?”

Ignis shakes his head firmly, placing his attaché case on the kitchen counter. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Prompto,” he insists warmly. “It’s very likely that we’re simply incompatible as sexual partners.”

Prompto blinks, shoulders drooping at this. “Oh?” he breathes. “Oh. Cool. That’s… I guess…” He trails off, voice unsure.

“You guess?” Ignis prompts.

“I guess… that kind of makes what I was gonna ask moot.”

“That depends on what you were going to ask.”

Leaning up against the back of the couch, Prompto carefully meets his eyes. “I, uh… I was wondering if, like…” He swallows hard. “Like, if we could give it another go? I don’t know. You’re really the only person I can come to about this, and even though it was supposed to be a one-off thing I feel like we should try to end it on a better note than ‘that was terrible,’ you know? Like we should give it another go until, like… we reach a good point.”

For a long time Ignis doesn’t speak; only thinks about the words he’d just been presented. A better note? Another go? Was Prompto suggesting they sleep together again?

No, regularly.

He was suggesting they fuck on the regular to improve.

“That,” he finds himself beginning weakly, “makes sense.”

Prompto breathes out a long, relieved sigh at this. “Cool,” he says. “Yeah. Cool. Is, uh… today too soon?”

“Would you mind if we ate first?” Ignis suggests in all his confusion.

“Yeah. No. Cool.”

…

They finish dinner in record time, Prompto making appreciative noises all through the meal until his plate is clean and his hand slides across the table. “Wanna give it a go?”

Ignis considers making a note of his eagerness despite their track record but keeps it to himself. “You haven’t douched, have you?”

Prompto shakes his head, hair flying about his face as he hums a no. “I did everything else, though. The website said not to douche too often. Dries stuff out, you know?”

“You don’t have to,” Ignis puts in softly, “though it is a personal preference of mine.”

“You like it squeaky clean?”

“Yes. I’m…” He clears his throat, making a face. “I’m not exactly fond of condoms.”

Leaning forward, Prompto’s lips twitch as he suggests, “Well, we’ve already gotten tested. As long as you don’t come inside me we should be fine.”

Eyebrows draw together at this. “Considering our track record, I’ll be surprised if I can come at all,” he admits.

“We’ve only done it once.”

“Condoms on,” Ignis insists. “For now, at the very least. There are a lot of germs that shouldn’t mingle.”

“Okay,” Prompto groans.

Rising from his chair, Ignis quickly makes his way to the hall, shedding his shirt as he went before draping it carefully over his arm. As he arrives in his bedroom he shucks the rest quickly and efficiently, draping them over his desk chair only to turn to find Prompto had shed his all over the floor like a tree in autumn.

Prompto stares at him, envy plain. “How do you even look like that?”

“Like what?” he asks.

“Just, like… Trim and muscled and stuff. Whenever I gain weight it goes straight to my stomach.”

“Genetics and hard training,” is his initial response.

Prompto drooped. “I do the same training, remember?”

“... Genetics.”

With a long sigh, Prompto crawls onto the bed and flops into the pillows.

Ignis follows with a dry, “What would you like to happen tonight?”

Freckled shoulders shrug. “I dunno,” he admits. “Was kind hoping you’d just shove your dick up my butt or something. I’m already stretched and stuff.”

An eyeroll is barely contained. “Quite to the point, aren’t you?”

“I dunno, man. No one released a book on etiquette specifically for fucking one of your best friends to get good at sex, you know? I mean, it’d be _helpful_ , but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t exist.”

Ignis does roll his eyes at this, then reaches for the bedside table to pull a box of condoms out of the drawer. He wraps his hand around his cock for a moment, giving himself a few solid pumps that are maybe a touch too tight before sliding one on, fingers slipping over the pre-lubed surface before he drops the box back in the end table. “Ready?”

Prompto scrambles to flop onto his front, spreading his legs with a muffled, “Ready.”

Settling between his legs, Ignis pulls the pale ass cheeks before him apart, then gently presses against the exposed hole, sliding slowly in. The head goes in no problem, followed by the entire length of his cock, and before long he’s entirely sheathed within Prompto’s warm heat.

“You gonna move?” comes the bored demand.

Carefully, Ignis pulls back, then eases in as quick as his hips will snap, earning a sharp grunt. “Good?” he asks.

“Eh,” Prompto drawls back.

Snatching up a pillow, Ignis positions his legs on either side of Prompto’s before shoving it beneath his hips, propping him up. Then, drawing his hips back, he gave another thrust.

No grunt.

“Better?”

“A little,” Prompto replies, hips rolling against the pillow beneath him. “It’s different friction.”

Easing his knees forward, Ignis attempt to ram into him directly, balls slapping the pillow as he begins a brutal pace. He earns a soft moan and shifts, attempting to replicate the sound, only to receive a quick shift of hips and a sharp, “Nope,” that sends his stomach plummeting into his legs.

He tries angle after angle until Prompto’s hands find him, gripping his hips in a vicegrip.

“Stop,” he demands hoarsely. “Stop.”

Ignis does, pulling out quickly and backing off the bed.

Prompto turns, watching him with a guilty expression before his hands draw up to cover his face. “Sorry,” he gasps wetly. “Sorry. I was… I think I’m raw.”

“We needed more lube,” is all Ignis can manage. His eyes trail to Prompto’s ass for… what? He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. He peels the condom off his quickly softening cock and reaches for the tissues.

Prompto groans. “That was bad.”

“Yes,” Ignis agrees softly, taking a seat at the end of the bed. “Yes, it was.”

Hands sliding up into his hair, Prompto breathes a long, tense breath. “Gods, what are we even doing?”

“Trying to figure it out,” Ignis reminds him softly.

“What about you?” Prompto asks. “Did you forget?”

Guilt and shame well up in Ignis’ stomach. Did he forget? What was he doing? Nothing was working. “It seems like it.”

“What’s it like?”

Ignis turns, eyes meeting Prompto’s suddenly eager ones as their gazes met. “What particularly?”

“Good sex,” is the instant clarification.

A snort follows, and he turns back to settle his eyes on the floor. “It’s an _orgasm_ ,” he points out, anger bleeding into his voice.

“Yeah, but is it better when you’re getting off with another person?”

Ignis is quiet at this, mind reeling.

“Hello?”

Shifting back, Ignis collapses against the bed, suddenly finding it difficult to remain vertical. Then, in a rare moment of absolute clarity, he answers. “Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t. Other times you just want to be close to someone and sex is a means to an end.”

Prompto hums, face coming into view as he bends over Ignis. “That’s weird.”

For a long time they stare at each other, as if unwilling to look away – possibly unable to break the line between their eyes – before Ignis finally turns his gaze to the wall and rolls toward the edge of his bed. Slowly, he gets to his feet. Slowly, he steps across the room to his clothes on the desk chair. “You should probably go.”

“Yeah,” Prompto admits, voice half playful, half regretful. There was a hiss as the bed squeaks. “Man, this is gonna hurt for a while.”

Ignis doesn’t look up from his underwear as he replies, “Put some ice on it when you go home.”

A laugh follows. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll sit on a bag of peas.”

And then he leaves, and Ignis feels something like loneliness rising up in his stomach like nausea.


	3. Sore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Coffee](http://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com) for their neverending hard work and persistence editing.

The next morning, as his alarm blares at five sharp, Prompto rolls over in bed and groans as the dull ache in his ass engulfs his entire brain.

“Why,” he groans.

He skips his morning jog and goes straight to work.

…

Hands grabbing hold of thin shoulders, Prompto shakes the Crown Prince of Insomnia awake with a shouted, “ _ Wake up you dumbshit _ .”

Noctis flails out of bed with a scream, hitting the floor with a heavy  _ thump _ .

“Rise and shine, asshole.”

“You’re the asshole,” Noctis fires back, rising from the floor with a groan. “You don’t need to throw me out of bed to wake me up, you know.”

“It’s either this or the ice water method,” Prompto snarks, stepping out of the bedroom to make his way into the living quarters. Striding up to the fridge, he opens it with a loud, “I’m getting breakfast.”

“Check it for veggies first,” came the skeptical prince. “I’m not eating bell pepper stir fry again.”

“That stir fry was  _ delicious _ .”

“It was  _ disgusting _ ,” Noctis insists again, only to pause as he steps into the light of the kitchen. Eyeing Prompto up and down, he drawls, “What happened to you?”

Prompto winces. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re totally fucked up, dude. It looks like you’re barely standing.”

A weak grin is the reply.

“What happened?”

“Late night?” he offers weakly.

“Uh-huh,” Noctis drawls. “Late night or  _ late night _ ?”

Prompto sighs, then admits, “The latter.”

A blink. A soft, “Oh.” Then a louder, “ _ Oh. _ ”

Snatching a bit of tupperware labeled “breakfast” from the fridge, Prompto pops it in the microwave above the oven with a groan as he stretches.

Hopping up on the counter, Noctis leans forward expectantly. “So how was it?”

“A disaster.”

“Ouch.”

“You’re telling me.”

Hands gripping the edge of the counter, dark blue eyes turn to the floor, then back to Prompto. “Who was it?” he asks. “Do I know them?”

Prompto shakes his head. “You know him, but I’m not telling.”

Dark eyebrows arch. “You’re not?”

“He only slept with me at first so I could lose my virginity.”

“‘At first,’” Noctis parroted quickly. “So this wasn’t the first time? Or did the reason change?”

A shrug follows, unsure. “I don’t know, man. I mean, this was my second time. The first time was to lose my virginity. The second time… I mean… We’re gonna keep doing this, apparently.”

“So… are you a thing?”

Hopping up onto the oven, Prompto curls up beneath the microwave, crossing his arms over his knees as he ducks beneath the appliance. “Nah. Far from it.”

“Prompto, you’re not that kind of guy. This isn’t gonna end well.”

He can only nod slowly. “I think you’re right,” he agrees softly. “But he’s really cool headed, you know? It might be okay.”

“I hope you’re right, Prom.”

…

Pulling out in front of the school gates with the hood down, Prompto rolls down the window, makes eye contact with the young girl with short black hair staring directly at the car, and shouts, “Get in, loser. We’re going shopping.”

Racing up to the car, Iris launches herself over the door and into the waiting seat with a laugh. “Did Gladio tell you to say that?” she asks, buckling herself in.

“Nah,” he replies warmly, slipping on a pair of sunglasses hanging from the rearview mirror. “I’m just hip like that.”

She snorts, then asks, “So, shopping?”

“Insomnia Central Mall, as ordered. Well, near it anyways. You need to go to the fabric shop, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

“No problem. What are friends for?”

…

The fabric shop is practically abandoned when they arrive, sorting through the rows for “the perfect nose,” as Iris had put it. They’re in the yarn section discussing eyes for her next moogle when Prompto’s phone chimes.

_ From Ignis: _

_ How is your behind treating you? _

_ To Ignis: _

_ Still a little sore. _

_ From Ignis: _

_ Today is a bit… stressful. Would you mind terribly if we met at your place tonight? _

Prompto hesitates before replying. At first he types out a skeptical, “A bit soon, don’t you think?” But as Iris catches his attention, comparing a red and a black, he locks his phone and puts it in his pocket without sending the text. They settle on black, and it’s a while before he retrieves it again, then deletes what he has written.

_ To Ignis: _

_ 7PM good? _

_ From Ignis: _

_ 7PM is perfect. I’ll see you then. _

His attention shifts to Iris just in time.

“Blue or red for the nose?” she asks.

“Red,” he replies. “Definitely red.”

…

Prompto zones out when he heads up to his apartment, almost missing Ignis entirely as he approaches his door. The man rises as he draws up, their gazes meeting.

Ignis certainly looks… drained.

“Sorry,” Prompto begins softly. “Am I late?”

“No. I’m simply early,” is the swift reply.

Prompto checks his phone, eyebrows rising. “Yeah, half an hour,” he notes in disbelief before reaching for his keys. He opens the door for them, letting Ignis in before locking it quickly. As soon as it’s locked hands find his shoulders, spinning him around. Prompto barely has a moment to figure out what’s going on before a mouth descends on his. There’s still a lot of tongue. He nearly chokes on it but decides to say nothing. He just opens his mouth and leans into the hand sliding down his front.

Before long, Ignis pulls out of the kiss to turn his gaze on Prompto’s pants as he fumbles to undo them.

“So,” Prompto manages as the first button pops open. “I’m your de-stressor now?”

Ignis pops his own pants open, then reaches into Prompto’s boxers to pull him out of the slit, giving him a cursory pump. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to a pale neck with a hoarse, “Is that a problem?” as he gently humped his hip.

“A-okay with me?” Prompto replies, voice high.

Grabbing him by the hips, Ignis drags them both to the couch, half tossing Prompto onto the cushions before climbing on to, mouth descending as he fists their cocks in a loose grip.

After a few strokes, Prompto thrusts up with a desperate gasp, pulling away from the kiss. “This…” he chokes out, voice thick. “This is actually pretty good.”

Ignis’ reply is to moan directly into his ear, hips working desperately against his own hand, pace dissolving into a desperate push of flesh.

“Shit,” Prompto gasps. “Shit, I’m gonna come. We’re gonna make a mess.”

Ignis has the frame of mind to slow, at least. His hips keep moving, but his hand draws away. He works quickly at Prompto’s vest, unzipping it and pushing it over his shoulders before undoing his own shirt buttons and tossing it aside.

Shirt discarded off into the ether, Prompto barely has a chance to gasp before fingers drag along the edge of his jaw, drawing him up into a blistering kiss. He can hardly tell where each tongue begins, and for a second he’s worried about choking again. For a second, as the kiss breaks, he’s lost and delirious, wondering if he did something wrong or he didn’t respond enough as Ignis draws back. But then the man licks a stripe on his palm and reaches down, gripping them firmly, and Prompto  _ keens _ .

He comes like this, gasping for breath with Ignis’ hand between them. His hips jerk towards the sensation, painting his chest with cum. He can feel his pulse everywhere; in his cock, his legs, his chest, his  _ face _ . His head falls back against the couch. His eyes train on Ignis’ face, unable to look away as the man continues without him, the sound of his hand going a mile a minute between them slapping through the room.

And then Ignis finishes against his chest, face twisting into something monstrous, then falling apart into a mess of satiation. He collapses against Prompto, smearing their semen across both their chests as he gasps for breath. “Good?” Ignis asks weakly.

“Great,” Prompto replies softly, craning his neck to meet his companion’s gaze. “Amazing.”

A laugh breaks between them, and Ignis slowly pushes himself up. “Good,” he murmurs, then bends forward for a kiss.

There’s very little tongue, and Prompto thinks he’s melting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to insert this shameless plug here for [Love in a Bottle](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12578400), my other ongoing project -- a Promnis Kiki's Delivery Service inspired AU that is Slow Build AF and also updated today.


	4. Winner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Promnismas, everyone!

Ignis wakes seconds before his alarm, only to find himself lost. Where is he? Why is he at an angle? Why…

He blinks.

Why is Prompto here?

His stomach gives a little flip.

Then his alarm goes off.

Prompto groans in his arms, shifting as his eyes fly open. Their gazes meet. Prompto smiles.

Ignis can’t breathe.

“Morning,” comes the gentle, sweet greeting.

A cleared throat later, he’s able to reply with a hoarse and throaty, “Good morning.” He can’t bring himself to move. To untangle himself from Prompto and seek out his phone to turn off the alarm.

Blue eyes flicker down, then back up, and Prompto leans in.

Their lips meet in the chastest of kisses.

Ignis doesn’t have time to react before it’s over. Before Prompto draws away, leaving his lips tingling and his chest pounding.

Rising to his feet, the blond snatches up Ignis’ glasses from the table, placing them on his nose with a smart, “Now you can  _ see _ ,” before turning away to grab his shirt from the other end of the couch.

Rising to his feet, Ignis takes a quick glance to admire Prompto as he struggles to put his shirt on before making his way into the kitchen. He grabs up his phone, silencing the alarm. Then, spying the time, he breathes a low, “I have work in an hour.”

“I have today off,” is Prompto’s addition.

A green gaze shifts across the room, landing on pale blue eyes. He feels something stutter in his chest. “Do you have plans for today?” he asks.

A shrug. A sigh. “Not really. I was just gonna, like… sleep. Maybe go to the gym later.”

For a moment longer than he would like to admit, Ignis entertains the idea of keeping Prompto in his bed all day. Calling in sick. Dragging Prompto to his bedroom and just… sucking him off for hours.  _ Learning _ how to suck Prompto off. A shiver races up his spine as he spies the smallest of grins.

“I should get out of your hair,” those pink lips say, but is he?

No.

Not enough.

Ignis steps forward, takes hold of his jaw, and kisses him for everything he’s worth.

And Prompto just  _ opens _ for him.

A keen rises in his throat; felt rather than heard. He’s pulled closer, then pushed away.

“You have work.”

“I don’t  _ have _ to have work,” is his quick rebuttal.

A blink. A surprised, “What?”

“I could call in,” he clarifies, fantasy in full force. “I’ve got quite a few sick days saved.”

“What? No. You…” He sighs, hand running sharply through his hair. “You’re just… really horny right now, aren’t you?”

Ignis doesn’t know how to reply to this, taking a quick step away from Prompto. Horny? Well, yes, a little. But was it just that? Was the bitter feeling in his stomach whenever Prompto left just wanting to get laid?

No.

No, it wasn’t.

The bitter laugh to follow hurts. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m here,” is the dry observation. “Like, I’m not gonna stop you if you call in. But, like… I’m not encouraging this. On the record and all that.”

The words cut, but Ignis tries to ignore the growing nausea in his stomach as he draws his phone up, sending a quick message to Noctis that he’s ill and wouldn’t be coming in today before dropping it to the couch, grabbing Prompto by the shoulders, and dragging him in for a kiss.

Prompto’s eyes roll and he laughs as Ignis’ hands wind into his hair.

Ignis feels like a teenager when he starts tugging at the shirt that Prompto’s barely put on.

When they finally part for air, Prompto gasps a quick, “I have an idea.”

…

Settling on the bed beside Ignis, Prompto holds his hand aloft, waving it nervously through the air. Lube glistens from his fingers. “Okay. Are you ready for the rules?”

Ignis nods slowly, a nervous twist to his lips.

“Alright,” he begins quickly. “Alright,” he says again, shifting forward, mouth falling open and shut three times before he gives a thick swallow. His hand trembles in the air. “No touching dicks. I have five minutes to explore your ass, and then you have five to explore mine. We trade off until someone gets off. The person who manages to bring on an orgasm wins, and the loser, who came, has to buy takeout of the winner's choosing.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Ignis agrees softly, shifting against the mattress. “Since I’m going first, where do you want me?”

“Uh…” Blue eyes shift about the room, landing on pillows, then a desk, then back to the pillows. “Face down in those,” he says, motioning to the mounds at the top of the bed. “And lift your hips as high as you can.”

Complying quickly, Ignis rolls onto his stomach with a huff, then crawls up to the pillows, ass rising quickly into the air as his knees spread against the comforter. “Is this good?”

“Perfect,” Prompto replies, descending. He slides a finger against the rim of Ignis’ ass, smearing the lube against paler skin. “Five minutes,” he says firmly, sliding the tip of the glove into the center of the pucker of freshly cleaned skin, “starting now.”

“It’s been a while. Be gentle,” comes the soft request.

“Okay.”

Ignis feels the finger slide in with laser focus. Tries to ignore the strange sensation of something climbing inside him – inside his  _ ass _ – and wiggling in search of spots that would get him off. He feels filled to the brim, and it would be pleasant if it weren’t for the movement. But long before he can get used to it, the five minutes end. There’s the snap of a glove, the gentle swipe of a baby wipe against the lightly-used flesh, and then the hands are gone.

“My turn,” Prompto announces.

Rising from the bed, Ignis snatches up the box of medical gloves they’d placed on the bedside table, pulling one out and slipping it onto one hand. He turns, eyeing Prompto as the younger man half dives into the pillows. Then, snatching up the lube, Ignis pops the cap and smears the slick gel along his fingers before dropping it back in its place. Moving back onto the bed, he crawls toward Prompto with a purpose. Leans forward with a purpose. Eases his hand forward with a purpose.

He plays with Prompto’s hole for five minutes.

Prompto doesn’t even get hard.

It’s two more turns before Ignis shouts into the pillows. Before his fingers twist in the comforter and his mouth closes around a wad of fabric in an attempt to keep in the noise approaching a scream that tears from his lips as Prompto’s finger finds his prostate at last.

“Huh,” comes the noise from behind him. “It’s bigger than I thought it’d be.”

Ignis can only gasp, hips humping open air for absent friction as the gloved finger inside him slowly curves and a nail could be felt through the glove, barely scraping his prostate. He bites back another scream, gritting his teeth against the sensation as his breath comes in heavy, labored pants. His cock bobs against his stomach, painfully hard and swiftly purpling despite the lack of attention. Then the finger pushes his prostate like a button and Ignis scrambles away, hips jerking forward as he pulls off the digit inside him to run, to get  _ away _ from that horrible, hollow pain that shoots through him like a punch to the gut.

Blue eyes fix, wide and alarmed, on the man huddling in front of the headboard. Eventually, he clears his throat. “Too hard?” he asks.

A shaky, hesitant nod is the reply.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Shit, I’m  _ so _ sorry.”

Ignis is about to reply with a soft, “We’re both learning,” when a blond head of hair fell into his lap. He gasps as lips wrap around the head of his cock, swallowing him down quickly. “I-” He clears his throat. “I thought you said we wouldn’t be touching any cocks,” he gasps, fingers sliding quickly into the messy yellow strands.

Prompto hums around him.

Gasping wetly, tanned hands push down.

Pale arms flail. Legs twitch. Then, fighting the grip, Prompto’s head shoots off Ignis’ cock, a series of coughs working through his body like a full-body seizure.

“M- My apologies.”

“Dude,” he coughs back, “ _ not cool _ .”

“I’m truly sorry.”

“You better be.”

Ignis feels his cock throb against his stomach, then glances down. It’s an angry purple. “Well,” he murmurs softly, “at least one of us has got something down.”

A laugh follows this. Pale hand working through messy yellow strands, Prompto glances down at the erection, then back into bright green eyes. “Really?”

For a moment, the air stills. Breath is scarce as Ignis finds himself transfixed by the gentle smile on pert, reddened lips.

“What are you thinking?” Prompto asks suddenly.

Ignis doesn’t reply, instead bending forward to press eager lips to a mouth that opens immediately to him. He ignores the jump of his cock against his stomach as it demands attention. All he can think of is the skin beneath his hands as he takes hold of pale shoulders. Of the thrumming of his heart in his chest as their tongues tangle. Then, drawing out of the kiss, he climbs into Prompto’s lap, taking hold of his half-hard cock and pressing it against the tight furl of his ass. Diving down, he drags his lips against Prompto’s, hovering just a breath apart and feeling the man’s gasp along his cheeks as he grounds out a sharp, “I want you inside me.”

A groan meets the words.

A series of solid knocks sound through the apartment.

Prompto jerks back, eyes wide and fixing on the open bedroom door. “You aren’t expecting anyone, right?” 

“Not to my knowledge,” he replied quickly.

“ _ Ignis, open up _ .”

“Noctis?! What the hell?!” Prompto squeaked.

Sliding off his companion’s lap, Ignis half falls off the bed before snatching his robe from the bathroom door, pulling it on with a firm, “Don’t move. I’ll be back in a moment,” before stepping out of the room and closing the door in his wake.

The pounding on the door continues all the while.

Flipping the lock, Ignis wrenches the door open to find Noctis’ hand poised to continue knocking, flanked by a very annoyed looking Gladiolus. Looking him dead in the eye, Ignis asks, “Can I help you?”

Noctis frowns. “Dude, I heard you’re sick. I tried to call but you weren’t picking up.”

“I silenced my phone.”

“Well… what’s wrong?”

Ignis breathes a long sigh before replying with a short, “I ate something that didn’t agree with me.”

Slowly, the frown falls, replaced by a concerned pout. “Well, do you need anything? Ginger ale? Tea?”

Green eyes shift to Gladiolus, taking in the exasperated expression before turning back to Noctis. “I’m quite alright. Thank you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. May I go back to bed, now?”

Noctis blinks. Then, slowly, he nods. “Yeah. Sorry, man. I’ll… I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“I’m closing the door.”

“Cool beans, man.”

Ignis closes the door without another word.

_ “Cool beans?” _ Gladiolus’ voice could be heard through the door.

“ _ I don’t know. I was just… _ ”

Ignis steps away from the door, attempting to keep his laughter to a minimum.

He then pauses. Turns.

Locks the door.

Then, he heads back into the hall with a shake of his head, further into the apartment before pausing before his bedroom door. Apparently he hadn’t closed it properly earlier, as it stood ajar. Through the crack he could just make out Prompto, reclined against the bed, naked, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he hums to himself.

Much like earlier, Ignis finds himself breathless.

For a long time he doesn't go in. For a long time he stands in the hall in nothing but his bathrobe, gaze on the man on his bed until blue eyes fall from the ceiling to meet his. Caught, Ignis moves forward, pushing open the bedroom door.

Prompto smiles. It’s this small, quiet thing that fills the room. His mouth opens – to say something, to ask something, maybe – only to fall shut.

Undoing the belt around his waist, Ignis lets the robe drop to the floor and climbs quickly onto the bed. His hands find pale skin; lips trace the curve of a lithe throat.

A hum meets the ministrations. “What was that you were saying about being inside you?” he reminds sweetly.

Spreading his legs, Ignis straddles Prompto without delay, leaning back and rocking his hips.

Squeaking, Prompto manages a high, “You, uh… You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“False bravado,” is the gentle admission as a tanned hand reaches between them to take hold of a flagging erection, dragging it along the cleft of a pert ass to press against a still-lubed hole.

“You sure about that?” is the gasped reply, cock hardening quickly beneath the attention.

“Positive.” His voice cracks. Then, slowly, he tries to sink down, only for a hand to fall on his arm.

“Condom,” Prompto reminds quickly.

Ignis blinks. “Right.”

They scramble for the bedside, snatching up a foil packet and tearing it open without mercy. Prompto hisses as they slide it on. Before long they’re back where they started.

Then, Ignis sinks down.

There’s a breath shared between them.

They pause.

“It’s… not going in,” Prompto observes smartly.

Easing back up, Ignis attempts to push Prompto’s cock inside him, only for it to bend beneath the pressure.

“You’re tense.”

Eyes clenching shut, Ignis manages a weak, almost tearful, “Fuck.” It hangs in the air, sharp and bitter and almost too much for the moment.

And then Prompto is there, kissing him. A tongue pries at thin lips. Dives into Ignis’ mouth. And oh, does he love that. Their mouths open wide for each other, and then Prompto’s gone. His hands push at Ignis’ shoulders and shove him back onto the bed.

“What-” Ignis manages.

“False bravado,” Prompto explains quickly, pulling the condom off his cock with surprising grace. He tosses it across the room before wrapping both his hands around their dicks. Slowly, he begins to pump them together.

A moan breaks the air. A broad back arches beneath the ministrations.

It turns into a desperate rut, both of them humping into Prompto’s hands until they can’t breathe. Until Ignis falls back against the pillows, head light and breath short. He comes with Prompto’s name on his lips, cum shooting up his chest and splashing nearly all the way up to his throat. Then, eyes falling open, he watches Prompto finish.


	5. Sixty-Nine

Tapping at his phone with a dramatic swing of his thumbs, Prompto glances up occasionally to watch Ignis cook. “What are you making again?” he asks.

“Omelettes,” Ignis replies sweetly.

“Hmm…” he hums, setting down his phone. Stepping over to the taller man, he wraps his arms around a trim waist, hand sliding into the gap in the robe to caress the curve of a tanned neck.

Craning his head around, Ignis puckers his lips for a kiss.

Prompto obliges, rising up on his tiptoes to accept the token of affection. There’s no tongue; just the casual press of lips on lips. It’s almost domestic, and something rises in his stomach. Something like desire, but not quite. Something softer. Something sweeter. For lack of anything better to do, he slides his hand down the inside of the robe to take hold of a soft groin.

Lips pull away with a startled, “Is someone not going to allow me to cook in peace?”

With a giggle, he shakes his head “no,” then falls to his knees and lifts the hem of Ignis’ robe over his head, crawling between solid thighs.

“What are you doing?”

“Pretend we’re on a cooking show or something. Bonus round; don’t burn the food while your opponent distracts you.” And with that he opens his mouth wide and sucks Ignis’ soft cock into his mouth.

There’s a satisfied hum above him.

Working his mouth, Prompto’s pleased to find the cock hardening quickly on his tongue. He sucks experimentally. Shifts his mouth. Bobs back and forth with his lips firm around his teeth even as it feels like he might cut off his own flesh with the abuse. He can feel the insides of his cheeks growing raw with the motion. But it’s not until Ignis reaches up and grabs a set of plates, arranging the food on the counter where Prompto can’t see, that he pulls off. “Am I bad at this?” he asks.

“While I’m hardly the best judge, I am quite enjoying myself,” Ignis replies warmly, stepping away to settle the plates further away from the stove. Turning off the burner, he sets the tools he’d used neatly in the sink.

Prompto sighs, then rises to his feet. “Maybe we should both give each other blowjobs,” he suggests. “For science. See who’s better at it. Maybe we’ll figure something out.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Ignis agrees softly. “Do you think it could wait until after breakfast, though? I’m getting quite hungry.”

“Right. After breakfast,” Prompto concurs, lips twitching into a smile.

For the next ten minutes, what begins as a joke becomes an almost sensual feeding of eggs. Ignis lifts his fork for each bite, pairing the omelette with tomatoes and a sauce he’d whipped up on the stove that makes Prompto’s toes curl. Sometimes, Ignis kisses the flavor right out of his mouth, tongue diving deeper than necessary and lips leaking drool.

Prompto minds it less than he had the night before.

…

They barely finish breakfast when Ignis drops his robe to the floor and they’re up against a wall, mouths open as far as they’ll go. Prompto tries to ignore the mess of spit slicking his chin, leaking from their mouths. It’s bothering him, again. But there are hands on his hip and back, pulling them flush together, keeping Prompto a good distance from the cold touch of the apartment wall. Instead of complaining, Prompto wraps his arms around a tanned neck, taking a bare step forward to push their erections together.

Ignis breaks the kiss with a grunt, eyelashes fluttering as he pulls back and stares right into Prompto’s eyes. There’s a warmth there that simmers beneath the surface. Something almost devoted.

Then, Prompto gets an idea. “Hey,” he begins softly, breaking the moment. “Could you maybe, like… pick me up?”

Green eyes blink. “Pick you up?” he parrots softly.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because, like… it’d be hot?” he attempts quietly. “I mean, it happens all the time in those movies Gladio’s always watching.”

“Romantic comedies are hardly what I would use to inspire my sex life,” is the deadpan reply.

“Are you saying you won’t do it?”

Ignis grunts a short, “I never said I  _ wouldn’t _ ,” before slipping his hands down to Prompto’s ass.

And now he’s being  _ lifted _ . Prompto flails momentarily before winding his legs around a narrow waist, arms clinging to shoulders like an oddly-shaped tree branch as he’s hoisted into the air and onto Ignis’ front.

And then they just…

… stand there.

Ignis’ face quickly turns a light shade of red from the strain. His lips purse.

Prompto laughs. “Okay, yeah, I’m probably pretty heavy. You can put me down.”

Ignis grunts, but says nothing before lifting one foot resolutely and taking a step toward the hall.

“What are you doing?”

They make it into the hall, then pick up the pace, half sprinting toward the bedroom until suddenly they slow as Prompto slides quickly down the man’s front, clinging like a monkey to what was swiftly becoming a penguin. Despite everything, Ignis – with what must cost all the collective graces of his life – waddles down the hall with grim determination.

“You can let me down,” Prompto insists as they pass into the room, having fallen to Ignis’ knees.

With a great grunt, Ignis lifts his companion solely by his ass before thrusting his hips forward, launching him onto the bed in an honestly pathetic arc.

The mattress is almost too firm to land on, and Prompto winces as he collides with the comforter, smelling of lube and body sweat.

Ignis leaps after him.

Prompto takes an elbow to the face.

Ignis takes a knee to the stomach.

The lamp falls and shatters, plunging the room into darkness.

“Shit,” Ignis says, surprising them both.

…

The vacuum whirs angrily as it picks up the last of the glass, cord trailing from Ignis’ hand to the outlet behind the bed. “I’m sorry,” he says, not for the first time.

“Dude, no. You’re fine.”

“I was being childish. You even asked me to put you down.”

“You were being impulsive and silly. Nothing wrong with that,” Prompto insists again, scooting up to the edge of the bed. His left leg falls over the side, right leg crossed until his foot presses into his thigh. “It’s not a big deal. Accidents happen.”

A sigh follows this. A hand runs through hair uncharacteristically unstyled. Ignis chases this with another sigh. “This isn’t going how I had hoped,” he admits dryly.

Prompto blinks. “What isn’t?”

“This,” he replies weakly. “ _ Us _ ,” he elaborates bitterly. “Aren’t we supposed to be getting better at this?”

“Well… I don’t know. Practice makes perfect, yeah, but I’ll bet no one becomes bombshells overnight. And like… maybe...” He trails off, unsure.

Ignis turns, facing him skeptically. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe… Maybe there isn’t any getting better.”

Green eyes blink, surprised.

“Maybe…” He pauses again, turning his gaze to the floor and ruffling a hand nervously through his hair, trying to ignore how it’s become matted with sweat. “I dunno. Maybe we just bring ourselves to the table. Maybe some things work and some things don’t.”

The look Ignis gives him then is skeptical at best, but it quickly melts into realization, then acceptance. It is with a sober nod and a light, “Perhaps,” that the topic ends.

Prompto shakes his head quickly. “Now. You. Bed. Now. I wanna try this before I have to worry about death and taxes.”

There’s a sigh at this, but the smile that accompanies it is genuine. Wrapping the cord around the vacuum cleaner, he asks, “Would you like to be on top, or would you prefer I did?”

Worrying at his lips, Prompto thinks for a moment before suggesting, “You like being on top, don’t you?”

Tanned cheeks slowly flush.

Flopping back onto the pillows, he waves a pale hand forward, ushering Ignis to join him.

Ignis is quick to climb onto the bed, crawling up and giving Prompto a hasty and shallow kiss before rising up on his knees, turning around.

And that is junk in his face, now. Prompto giggles at the sight of Ignis’ soft cock waving back and forth before his nose. Adjusting the pillow beneath his head, he calls a soft, “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” is the earnest reply.

Leaning forward, pink lips fall open, taking the swinging dick into his mouth. Reaching up with his hand, he carefully eases the balls away from his nose, then gives up and casually plops them atop the bridge. At least he can breathe. They are soft against his face. The skin is wrinkled and hairy and he can’t help but laugh as they tickle his nose for the first few seconds.

Ignis moves on him quickly and methodically, trying new sensations and new angles. It’s nothing more than a nuisance, to be sure. Prompto’s trying to concentrate. It’s not a very good blowjob, even if it’s enthusiastic.

On the upside, the cock on his tongue is quick to harden as Prompto begins to move. Quick to throb as he gives it a hard suck. There’s no response to softer stimulation. Nothing to a tongue dragging beneath the head. Nothing to a stripe licked up the vein. But as Prompto takes just the tip into his mouth and gives it a hard and brutal work of tongue and lips and just a  _ little _ teeth he earns a sob.

Ignis pulls off his dick to breathe and Prompto counts it as a victory.

Before the man has a chance to return to his ministrations, a pale hand slides up a tanned ass and slips between taut cheeks. He pushes in, squishing through the lube that clings inside for dear life through the events of the day.

Down below, Ignis attempts to restart his blowjob and Prompto realizes he does not appreciate the distraction.

So he curls his finger and gently massages Ignis' prostate.

In an instant the mouth has retreated, occupied with a choked cough before falling suddenly, sharply silent as his ass clenches around the invasion. It isn’t long before his cock twitches. Before he manages a grunt in warning.

Prompto pulls off, rubbing his free hand along the length slick with his spit until the cock pulses in his hand and shoots across his chest.

Ignis falls onto his side with a relieved sigh and a gentle, “Apologies.”

“Don’t apologize, man. That’s literally the point of the exercise.” The bedside table is just within reach, as are the baby wipes. Prompto barely has to stretch to grab them up. He wipes up his chest, tossing the used wipes in the trash before turning to his companion. Rolling onto his stomach, he spins himself around until his feet are at the pillows. Until his eyes are even with striking green slightly magnified with stylish glasses. He leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss to pale lips that lingers as they scoot in close, arms winding around each other until they’re flush.

At some point one of them grabs the sheets. Neither knows who. They snuggle up together, front to front, and press lazy kisses to cheeks and collarbones until inevitably falling asleep.


	6. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Coffee](http://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com) for editing this chapter. *heart*

Ignis wakes for reasons unknown to himself after an undetermined amount of time after falling asleep. But as he begins to wake – as he becomes aware of the arms around him and the hardness against his thigh – he hears what woke him; the distant and insistent buzzing of his phone.

Carefully untangling himself from his companion, he slides out from beneath the covers and hurries into the living room. Snatching the phone from the couch, he taps to accept the call with a professional, if groggy, “Ignis Scientia speaking.”

_ “Where the hell are you? My lunch break’s half over.” _

“Aranea, hello,” he greets warmly. “My apologies. I called in sick today. I haven’t left my apartment.”

_ “You… called in?” _ She sounds skeptical.

“I’ll fill you in later,” he promises. “As things are, I’m a touch indisposed.”

_ “Indisposed? You better fill me in.” _

“I’ll buy your coffee.”

A laugh follows.  _ “So generous. You’re hiding something. Alright; I forgive you for leaving me hanging. I’m glad you’re alright.” _

His cheek twitches in amusement, and he leans against the counter for a moment before jumping at the cold shiver that races up his back at the contact. “Good day, Aranea,” he bids sincerely.

_ “Good day, Ignis,” _ she parrots in an over the top accent.

He snorts before pulling the phone away, ending the call with a soft grin before heading back into the hall, bringing the phone with him. The blankets and his companion haven’t moved in his absence. Settling the phone onto its charger on his bedside table, he carefully climbs back into the mess of sheets.

Prompto groans.

“Apologies,” he greets him warmly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Blond lashes flutter, blue eyes sliding slowly open to meet green. And oh, are they shocking. Sleepy and half mast and utterly beautiful. They crinkle in amusement, and then pale arms are wrapping around tanned shoulders, tugging Ignis close for a kiss.

He lets himself be pulled. Lets himself be dragged into the gentle press of lips on lips that sends a warm and content shiver up his spine. He feels like he’s opened a door. But where it leads, he doesn't know. He rolls atop Prompto, feeling the lust settle in his stomach like the fall of an anchor against the ocean floor. The sheets pool out around them as he slaps his hands to the mattress, bending down to push their lips together. Prompto opens for his tongue in an instant, mouth dropping wide against his until they’re open as far as they’ll go. Until Ignis is as deep as he can get, saliva sliding out between their mouths as he settles between Prompto’s legs, pushing their hips together.

Pert lips break away in a gasp, hips angling away.

Ignis freezes.

“S-sorry,” Prompto gasps.

“Don't apologize,” Ignis finds himself snapping. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just…” He trails off, expression closing off.

“What?”

“Sensitive, I guess?” Prompto bites it out like an insult. “I don’t know. I went to sleep with a hardon. I think I have blue-balls.”

“Oh…” Ignis murmurs. Leaning forward, he begins to pepper kisses along the length of a throat. “Well, the best way to take care of that is by getting off,” he points out softly.

“Maybe a little later. We can try anal again. You know – if you’re up for it.”

He turns up, and green meets blue. A grin slides across his face. “I’m not opposed,” he agrees playfully.

Prompto smiles, then his arms twine around a stocky neck, dragging him down for another kiss.

…

It’s another few hours before Ignis crawls out of bed again. Before he heads off down the hall and steps into the bathroom, flipping up the toilet lid and gripping himself to take a leak. He breathes a sigh of relief before flushing, washing his hands, and heading back out into the hall. Once in the living room, he plucks his forgotten robe from the floor and slips it on.

From the curtains bleeds golden light.

Stepping over to the window, Ignis sweeps the drapes aside to peer through the blinds at the setting sun that casts shadows across the city.

From behind him comes the creak of footsteps on hardwood. Then pale arms appear around a trim waist. “Hey,” Prompto greets. “Evening.”

“I had no idea it had gotten so late,” Ignis comments, eyes falling on the cars bustling about the streets far below.

A hum. A light, “We napped for a while.” Gently, pale arms give Ignis a squeeze.

Tanned fingers draw up to pinch the bridge of a sharp nose. “My sleep schedule is going to suffer quite a bit from this,” he notes softly. “I can’t believe I just napped the day away.”

Another hum. Pressing his nude body against the back of the robe, Prompto suggests a low, “You know, there’s secret option number B where you let me tire you out tonight.”

“Secret option number B,” Ignis quotes, lips twitching in amusement. “And how, exactly, do you plan on tiring me out so  _ completely _ that I pass out for the recommended eight hours?”

Fingers dig into the thick robe, tugging him toward the hall. “Why don’t you come to bed and find out?”

“Hmm…” Ignis hums, gaze fixed on a delivery car far below. “Before that, we should probably eat something.”

“I could eat  _ you _ out.”

“Some other time,” Ignis promises softly. “When we’re a bit cleaner down below.”

Prompto’s head lolls back as he lets loose a long, disappointed groan.

They head into the kitchen, hovering in front of the fridge for a long time.

Draped over Ignis’ back, Prompto groans a soft, “Can’t it be something quick? Like a sandwich?”

“If you’re so intent on tiring me out with our sub-par sex abilities, it might be a better idea to go with something rice-based that won’t upset our stomachs if we move too much.”

“But rice takes  _ twenty minutes _ ,” Prompto whines. “Don’t you have leftovers or something? Or ramen?”

Ignis turns, looking Prompto dead in the eye as he announces, “You,” he begins dryly, “will be having a balanced meal whether you like it or not.”

Blue eyes blink. Then, lips move in an impertinent, “We could just get takeout.”

“In the time it would take to get here, we could simply make our own meal.”

“Yes,” he agrees quickly, only to lift a finger with a counter, “but we could spend all that time making out.”

“Prompto.”

“Yes?”

“Put your clothes on.”

“Are… you kicking me out?”

Ignis resists the very real urge to roll his eyes. “No,” he replies dryly. “I simply don’t wish to prepare and eat dinner naked.”

“Can’t we just order pizza?”

“Get dressed, Prompto.”

…

“You’re a daemon,” Prompto groans as soon as he finishes his curry. His dish has been licked clean, and his rice bowl only half empty. Rising from his seat, he strides quickly around to Ignis’ side of the table. “You did this on purpose.”

Green eyes blink in faux innocence. “I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at.”

Pale fingers tangle in the white dress shirt, tugging Ignis forward until he rises with it. “Why did you have to insist we get dressed?” he complains, dragging him into the hall. “Come  _ on _ . It’s such a waste of time. No one was even here. We could have just eaten in our skivvies.”

“What would you say…” Ignis began, trailing off for a moment before clearing his throat, pausing for a moment in the hall to smooth down the tank top that had begun to ride up on a pale stomach. “What would you say if I said I was quite enamored with the idea of undressing you?”

Prompto’s expression shifts at this, twisting between confusion and revelation. But as the words appear to sink in, his eyes…

… soften.

Something in the pit of Ignis’ stomach twists at this sight.

Rising up on his tiptoes, Prompto presses their lips sharply together.

The kiss is different. There’s no tangle of tongue. No gentle brush of skin. Instead it’s a sharp press of lips. A pert bottom lip moves separate from the rest, sending a shiver beneath a white dress shirt. He groans as they pull apart.

“I need to get myself ready if we’re gonna do this.”

It takes Ignis a moment to realize what he’s saying. Slowly, he nods. “Doggy style, right?” he says, feeling like a teenager.

Pink lips twitch in a grin. “Hella. I’m gonna go take a shit. Go, like…” He motions to the room. “Go jerk yourself off or something. Keep yourself ready for me.”

“Don’t undress.” The words are out before Ignis can stop them.

The smile to follow takes the breath from his very lungs. “Why would I when you obviously want to do all the hard work for me?”

A smile lights on thin lips as they’re kissed one last time before Prompto waltzes into the bathroom.

Ignis strides over to the bedroom, feeling his stomach roil happily. He breathes in and out, long and even, before quickly going about straightening the bed. He strips the sheets, replacing them with clean ones and throwing the lube-smeared comforter and bedding into the wash. He puts the vacuum away. Then, with a nervous glance at the bathroom door, he goes to the hallway closet. Pulling open the door, he glances through the shelves until he finds them – candles.

He gives them a quick sniff as he brings them down. Vanilla. Nothing too exciting. There’s a layer of dust on the inside, and he wipes at it quickly with his fingers before snatching up a box of matches. Heading back into the room, he places the candles on the bedside table, the dresser, and on the wicker box at the end of the bed. He’s just finishing lighting the final candle when he hears a shuffle from the door and turns.

The gentle look of awe on Prompto’s face was warmer than Ignis expected. “Dude,” he says.

“Too much?” he asks, unsure.

Their eyes meet, and Prompto strides across the room, taking Ignis’ face into his hands and pressing a kiss to his lips, sharp and chaste, before pulling away. The look from before is back. Soft. Affectionate. Warm. Almost loving.

Like Ignis is the most beautiful thing he’s ever beheld.

For a moment, it’s hard to breathe.

Fingers find the distinctive blue buttons of the white dress shirt, undoing them one after the next before pushing the fabric over broad shoulders. It falls to the floor.

All Ignis can do is watch.

Prompto reaches for the hem of the undershirt. Lifts it easily, dragging it up a body that immediately stretches to accommodate the motion, arms lifting, back arching. Pale hands grab at the buckle of a belt, sliding the tongue out of the catch. Next came a button of blue jeans. The fly. Then they grab at the belt, still twined through the loops, and drag down, revealing inch after inch of thick, hairy legs. There are no sock garters this time; no space beneath tight jeans as opposed to the slacks he’d donned before.

“You look so good in jeans,” Prompto groans, then offers a warm, “Thanks,” when Ignis steps out of his pants. Moving from a crouch to kneel in the plushy carpet, he takes hold of tight briefs in both hands before leaning forward. He takes a moment to lean forward. To press his face into the curve of a hard cock through the thin cotton before dragging it down quickly. The dick slaps his face as it falls free, leaving a drooled line of precum against a pale cheek. “Someone’s raring to go.”

Ignis can hardly breathe as blue eyes turn on him. He steps politely out of his underwear as they reach his ankles, then toes off his socks. But all he can focus on is the line of semen on Prompto’s cheek.

A thought for another time.

Rising to his feet, Prompto slid his hands up the bare chest before him, gaze dragging appreciatively along the tanned skin. “You know, for someone who said they wanted to undress me you’re doing very little undressing.” His lips twist in a cocksure grin; eyes sit half-lidded. “Come on. Your turn.  _ Do _ me.”

Ignis’ mouth goes dry. He swallows hard, hands drawing up to settle against the straps of a tank top, sliding beneath them. He leans forward, brushing their noses together, their lips a hair’s breadth apart as his fingers play with the stitching of the shirt.

Suddenly, all bravado is gone. Prompto’s breath is shaky; his eyes flicker up to green eyes, then around the room. “S-So?” he attempted weakly. “Undress me.”

So Ignis does.

He takes his time about it, sliding his fingers down a narrow chest before sliding them beneath the hem of his tank top. He pushes it up slowly, feeling the material catch at his wrists as he presses a kiss to an exposed shoulder.

The sound of Prompto’s rasping breath fills the room; in and out, in and out.

And in.

And out.

Lifting the shirt over cooperative arms, Ignis throws it forcefully across the room without much in the way of a second thought, hands moving to admire a trim waist and the thin, silvery lines of stretch marks. Slowly, his fingers trace them down trim hims, following them to a hem of jeans, then the button.

“You’ve, uh… You’ve got this foreplay thing down,” Prompto manages weakly.

Straightening, Ignis pushes their faces together, lips dragging across an open mouth just enough to brush. But as Prompto dives forward to finish it – to connect them properly – he pulls away.

“Tease,” Prompto laughs.

“You love it,” Ignis fires back, feeling a grin split his cheeks.

There’s a pause, and blue eyes turn up to meet green. A pert lip is bitten. A silence falls. And as tanned fingers pop the button on his pants, Prompto admits a small, intimate, “I do.”

Breath is scarce for a few seconds after that.

After a while, Ignis drops to his knees and peels off his skinny jeans, pleased to find a lack of underwear and socks as the article is stepped out of and thrown to the side. But before he rises to his feet, his fingers rove over the marks left behind by the jeans. His mouth finds the indents one by one, paying special attention to the line running up along the side of his legs. 

Only for Prompto to lose his balance and fall back on the bed.

They both laugh.

Getting to his feet, Ignis watches as Prompto scoots about the bed until he reaches the pillow, flopping onto his stomach and butt shooting into the air. His knees spread wide, feet wiggling against the clean sheets. “Come on,” he demands. “Fuck me already.”

A sigh broke the air. “I was really getting somewhere with that foreplay,” he complains halfheartedly before climbing onto the bed. Kneeling between pale legs, he took hold of Prompto’s ass and held it apart, peering at the furled hole before him. “How about we come to a compromise?”

“I’m all up for compromise as long as you fuck me.”

“Alrighty, then.”

“Did you just say-  _ fuck _ .”

With his face buried in Prompto’s ass, tongue flat against the curl of muscle, Ignis huffs a laugh. Dragging it up and around, he laps at the freshly cleaned skin with unbridled enthusiasm. He revels in the gasp to follow. The gentle moan that breaks the air. But as he straightens his tongue and pushes inside, spearing into the hole that opens for him, a scream breaks the air. Pulling off immediately, he asks, “Are you alright?”

“ _ Why are you stopping? _ ” is the half sobbed reply as Prompto’s ass moves further back. “ _ Please. _ ”

Ignis’ cock gave a twitch at the words, and it was all he could do to dive forward once more, kissing the hole as he would a mouth. He twirls his tongue around the rim before shoving forward, attempting to tongue as much as he can. His cock twitches between his legs, bereft of stimulation. 

Prompto’s voice rises, muffled by the pillows as his screams reaches a crescendo. He shoves a fist in his mouth before long, biting down as his ass rocks into the muscle in his ass. And then he comes, shooting across the mattress untouched with nothing but a mouth on his ass. Chest heaving, head light, he pulls his fist out of his mouth. “Fuck me,” he demands.

Pulling off, a startled, “What?” is the smart reply.

“Fuck me now.”

“Did…” Ignis pauses, glancing down at the hole between his hands and then to the blond head of hair pressed into the pillows. “Did you stretch?”

“Yes.”

“Lube?”

“ _ Yes _ .”

Despite this, Ignis reaches for the lube on the bedside table, squeezing a generous amount into his hand before tossing the bottle to the floor and slicking himself liberally. “We’re not going through this again.” His hand found the gentle curve of an ass cheek, sliding for a moment before his fingers clamp down and pull it aside. Then, easing forward, he presses his cock against the spit-slick entrance of Prompto’s ass, head popping through in an instant. He bit his lip as he was gripped; the wet heat of Prompto’s insides loose around him even as the tight furl of Prompto’s hole held him tight. “Goodness,” he gasps.

“Goodness?” his companion laughs.

“You feel amazing,” he chokes out. He pushes in slowly with a hiss. Shudders at the feeling of pressure slowly working up his cock. “Goodness.”

“ _ Goodness _ ,” Prompto mocks again, this time with a bad accent.

It’s a few seconds before he’s fully seated. Before Prompto’s squeezing the base of his dick with the small, stretching ring of muscle that grips him tight. He can feel their balls brushing together, and he takes hold of his own with a lube-smeared hand. “I’m going to go fast, now,” he warns. “I don’t know when I’ll stop.”

There’s a hum in agreement, paired with a playful, “Fuck away.”

And then Ignis moves. It’s a careful snap of his hips; not quite fast, not quite slow as he keeps his balls in check. But as he picks up speed he lets them fall. Takes hold of narrow hips and thrusts forward and a pace that grows quickly desperate. “Gods,” he gasps, voice filling the relative silence, “this would be easier if I knew where your prostate was?”

Prompto grunts. “Hey, man, I’ve already gotten off. I’m good.”

Shifting his knees further apart, he pushes forward in earnest as a blinding pleasure rises within him. “You’re fantastic,” he gasps, feeling his balls grow tight.

Insides flutter at the words.

Pulling the ass in his hands further apart, Ignis watches his cock disappear into the furl of muscle, only to gasp. “I forgot a condom,” he realizes sharply. Despite his words he kept thrusting, feeling his orgasm build inside him. “ _ Fuck _ . I’m sorry, I- I’ll pull out.”

“Just come inside me,” Prompto insists. “You’re close. We’ve been tested.”

“This isn’t a  _ film _ ,” is the snapped reply even as his cock twitches at the suggestion. “It’s going to be difficult to clean up.”

“Yeah, but I want you inside me!”

“I’m already inside you!”

“This is  _ different _ ! So  _ please _ , just  _ come inside me _ .”

Ignis gasps, and then he’s there. Burying himself as deep in Prompto as he’ll go, he feels himself pulse, vision bleeding at the edges until everything’s crystal clear. He pull out, gasping as his oversensitive head is gripped, and watches as his orgasm slowly spills out of Prompto’s gaping hole. “You’re amazing,” he says just as a trickle of blood eases out alongside his semen. He freezes at this sight. “Prompto,” he snaps.

“What?” is the almost cowed response.

“How thoroughly did you stretch?”

“A decent amount.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Because you’re  _ bleeding _ .”

“That’ll clear up by tomorrow.”

“That won’t just clear up,” Ignis spits. “What if you get infected?”

Prompto breathes a sigh, reaching for the baby wipes on the side table before shoving one in his ass. Shifting to sit on the bed, he refuses to meet Ignis’ eyes. “I’ll go to a clinic if it freaks you out that much.”

“It does.”

“I’ll go in the morning, then.”

Collapsing onto his feet, Ignis breathes a low, “Thank you.”

Prompto blinks, then slowly a smile breaks over his lips. “Tired?” he asks.

Reaching up, Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Very.”

A pale hand motions to the bed as he stands quickly. “Pass out, then. I’ll clean up.”

“But you-”

“No buts. Sleep.”

“But I have to brush my teeth.”

Prompto rolls his eyes, then steps toward the doors. “After me, then.”

So Ignis waits. And when Prompto comes out of the bathroom he takes his turn, rising his mouth and brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth again until the taste of ass is far from his mind. The bed is stripped by the time he gets back, lingering in the doorway.

“Well,” Prompto begins, settling the lube on the nightstand and blowing out the last candle. “I’m going to get going.” He turns, gaze falling on green as a small, nervous grin lights his lips. “This was great. Especially the rimming.”

Leaning against the door frame, Ignis whispers a soft, “It would be nice if you stayed.”

Surprise, then a larger, softer smile. “Okay,” Prompto agrees. “I’ll stay.”

They climb into bed soon after, Ignis spooning himself around Prompto with a sated sigh.

…

He wakes to Prompto crawling out of bed. “I thought you were going to stay,” he groans, pushing himself up to watch the man pull on his discarded pants.

“It’s morning,” is the amused reply, paired with a pale hand motioning to the bright window. “I’ve got work in three hours. I have to get a taxi home, change, and go to the clinic before that happens. Where’s my shirt?”

Ignis squints, then snatches up his glasses from the bedside table, looking around the room. “I’m… not quite sure.”

Prompto sighs, then bends down to snatch up the white dress shirt on the floor among the rest of the clothes.

A mouth opens to protest – to warn him against taking the shirt – only to fall shut as Prompto pulls it on.

He looks picturesque in the morning light. His hair is glowing, and his skin shines in the sun. Beautiful. Maybe a touch too thin – easily remedied – and drowning in the shirt meant for broader shoulders, a wider chest, and thicker arms. Prompto gives him a look as he buttons the shirt, then bends forward and presses a kiss to a tan nose. Stuffing the shirt into the hem of his skinny jeans, he straightens with a laugh. “Maybe next time we’ll get it right,” he suggests.

Quickly, Ignis nods. “Yes. Next time.”

Prompto offers him a cheeky little grin before snatching up his socks. “I’ll see myself out.”

After his companion leaves, Ignis sits there in silence, finding himself hard beneath the blankets. He’s quick to take himself in hand, getting off to the thought of Prompto draped in his clothing.


	7. The Shirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter due to the nature of the content. Happy Promnis Week, everyone! Thanks to [Coffee](http://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com) for editing, as usual. You can expect another chapter either on Friday or Sunday. *heart*

Prompto jogs to the clinic straight from his apartment. It’s a brisk two miles, and works well for a short morning run. They see him quickly, give him a clean bill of health along with a gentle warning to take it easy for a bit, then send him on his way with a lolly and a pat on the back. He jogs back to his apartment, hopping in the shower the moment he gets home.

He pulls out his clothes for the day, glancing from dark shirt to dark shirt. What to choose? What to choose?

His eyes land on a stark white dress shirt discarded in the corner of the room.

Pulling it over his shoulders, he stares at himself in the mirror, shirt hanging wide open on his front. There is a flash of memory at the sight; of broad shoulders sliding out of this very same shirt. Of thin lips and messy brown hair.

Prompto watches in amazement as his dick grows hard.

“I… I don’t have time for this,” he sputters. Throwing the shirt off, he pulls on some underwear, an undershirt, and then tugs it back on. Socks and skinny jeans are wiggled into, and shoes are jerked into place. He heads out the door, trying not to reach for the front of his jeans to adjust them as the shirt flutters about his arms, reminding him of gentle hands and an overeager mouth.

…

“That looks good,” is the first thing out of Noctis’ mouth when he arrives at the apartment. “That new?”

Prompto fixes him with a shit eating grin, head bobbing back and forth as he casually replies, “It’s Ignis’. I stole it.”

Noctis’ expression is somewhere between disbelief and disgust. “What?”

Prompto blinks. “What?”

“What the  _ hell _ ?”

“I’m…” Prompto pauses, glancing around the room nervously. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

Noctis seems to physically reel in his reaction, breathing slow and settling further into the couch. “Does he  _ know _ you stole it?” he asks, attempting to turn his attention casually to the TV, where his game is paused.

“Um… Yes, actually,” is Prompto’s quick response. Stepping over to the couch, he plops beside his friend and boss. “I kinda flaunted that I stole it, actually. I guess that doesn’t really make it stealing. I mean, I’m going to give it back.”

“And he didn’t say anything?”

“No, man. Not a word. I mean… he said  _ goodbye _ and stuff, but otherwise he didn’t really seem to care,” he explains softly, squirming to get comfortable on the couch. His ass is  _ screaming _ . “I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

“ _ Yeah _ , dude,” Noctis fires back even as he unpauses his game. “Hella rude to wear someone else’s clothes.”

Pale eyebrows draw sharply together. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Is this like…” He motions with his hands, pointing up, then over, then down. “Is this, like, a nobility thing? ‘Cause for us plebs it’s kinda the norm.”

“Clothes are…” Noctis trails off, eyes narrowing as he slaughters an alien on screen, pauses, and then leans back against the couch. He runs a hand nervously through his hair, breathing a sigh. “Clothes are personal.”

Prompto is quiet for a really long time before replying. Before offering a soft, “Ignis didn’t seem to care.”

“Then he was probably trying to be polite or something,” is the quick reply. “Just don’t, like, flaunt it or anything.”

“... Well, shit.”

…

The car is humming nicely around them, Prompto gripping the wheel just a touch too tight as they weave through traffic. They arrive at the castle before too long. Prompto practically flies out of the car, running Noctis up the front steps of the citadel to where Gladiolus is waiting.

“Nice shirt,” Gladiolus says in greeting.

Prompto jumps, then nods quickly, only to race off.

...

For the following two hours, Prompto was at home, naked, shivering in the shower as his stomach burns and tears stain his cheeks. As air burns his lungs and his body gives the occasional hard jerk and a sharp sob.

He’s having a meltdown, he realizes early on in the whole debacle.

…

Having anxiety sucked. Prompto is all too aware of this as he arrives at Ignis’ apartment complex. As he punches in the code for entry before riding the elevator up in silence. He goes to his door. Knocks until his knuckles are sore. Slides down against the wall and grips the bag with the shirt maybe too tight. Maybe wrinkling it. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to look at it.

And he waits.

And waits.

And calls Iris.

_ “What’s up?” _ she asks, completely casual.

“I think I fucked up,” he admits sharply.

She hummed, already used to his panic attacks.  _ “How’d you fuck up?” _

“I took Ignis’ shirt.”

_ “Why in the name of Odin would you take Ignis’ shirt?” _

“I didn’t know it was a faux pas!” he defends himself softly, glancing up and down the empty hall cautiously. “I just… He didn’t stop me, okay?”

_ “... He didn’t stop you?” _

“No!”

_ “Prompto, are you sleeping with Ignis?” _

Prompto freezes.

_ “Prompto?” _

“Yeah,” he admits quietly. “Yeah, I’m sleeping with Ignis.”


	8. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Promnis Week, y'all! And thanks for your support in the comments. It means a lot. *Heart*
> 
> Thanks as usual to [Coffee](https://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com/) for help editing this chapter. What would I do without you? Honestly, what.

The coffee is just how Ignis likes it when he arrives at the café; black with half a teaspoon of honey.

“So, wait…” Aranea begins, reclining in the chair opposite him. “ _ Wait _ just a second. Are you telling me you might like him?”

A slow nod follows, a tanned hand drawing up to brush back a stray hair. “I’m not quite sure,” Ignis admits dryly. “There was a…  _ moment _ where I felt attracted to him, yes. I’m not sure how far that affection goes.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re nervous.”

Ignis’ lips purse.

“Wow,” she breathes, collapsing back into her chair. “ _ Wow _ , Ignis. This is a big step for you. This is the closest you’ve been to being in a relationship since you broke things off with Acencia. I’m proud.”

“You phrase that like he scarred me.”

Expertly tweezed eyebrows arch dramatically. “You haven’t brought him up since you broke up.”

“Why would I when you drop him into conversations every thirty seconds? The past is the past, Aranea.”

Her lips twitch amusedly. “True enough. But still…” Leaning forward over the table, her hand found his. “Good for you.”

…

Ignis arrives back at Noctis’ apartment, eyes moving immediately over the papers strewn over the coffee table as Gladiolus bends over it obsessively. Closing the door in his wake, he makes for the kitchen, pulling open the fridge door. But as soon as he pulls out some of the semi-fresh alfredo he’d made the last time he was there, Noctis is at his side.

Literally almost flush to his arm.

Staring.

Ignis jumps, putting a good few inches between them as he moves away.

“Why did Prompto have your shirt?” Noctis asks.

Ignis’ eyes widen, and his heart thuds sharply in his chest. “Pardon?”

“Prompto,” he repeats firmly. “He was wearing your shirt this morning and I want to know why.”

A flush shot up into Ignis’ cheeks. He felt them warm, embarrassment taking hold in his stomach. “I…” he began, voice weak.

Blue eyes rake over a sharp, tanned face. Over a broad nose and angular chin before dark lashes flutter nearly shut. “Are you  _ sleeping _ with him?”

Ignis doesn’t dignify this with a response.

Lips purse, then fall open in a bitter, “Gods.  _ Gods _ .” It comes out as a hiss, and his voice rising. “I knew he lost his virginity, but I didn’t know he lost it to  _ you _ .”

“Noctis-”

“Did you even think of telling him no?” he spits, eyes narrowing to slits and mouth twisting into a grimace. “He’s barely starting to figure out the rules of high society and you’re… what? Letting him traipse around in your shirt? Are you  _ trying _ to make him look like an idiot?”

“I’m not,” Ignis bites back, muscle jumping in his tense jaw.

“Then what? What are you doing? This is my  _ best friend _ we’re talking about. Like… I mean, I’d  _ heard _ things. Rumors. I know you’ve always been a  _ casual _ kind of guy, but I never thought you’d  _ fuck my best friend _ .”

“Noctis, that’s  _ quite enough _ .”

“Oh?” he snaps. “Is it now?”

“Yes,” Ignis spits, eyebrows drawing sharply together as he places the alfredo back in the fridge and closes it. “I’m not quite sure what the problem is, to be honest. He’s an adult. I’m an adult. I’m not planning anything untoward, despite what you’ve  _ apparently _ heard about me – which is news, I assure  you. And contrary to what you’ve come to know about my sex life, I don’t have much more experience in that department than Prompto does.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

“Noctis, if you’re so  _ goddamn _ sure that I’m lying to you, why the  _ fuck _ should I feel obligated to finish this conversation?”

Noctis freezes at this.

Hand dropping from the fridge handle, Ignis turns on his heel and makes his way back to the door.

“Ignis-” he calls in his wake.

“What’s going on?” Gladiolus asks, stepping up to the counter. “What’d I miss?”

“Call yourselves some  _ fucking _ pizza,” Ignis hisses as he takes hold of the door and yanks it open.

…

It takes Ignis a long while to calm down. He drives around the city with the music turned high, praying he doesn’t someday give himself tinnitus before returning to his apartment. He has approximately sixteen texts from Noctis asking if he’s going to come back. While in the elevator he fires back a reply saying he’s going to cool off first, and he suggests Noctis do the same.

There’s only a sedate “okay” in response to this.

And then there’s Prompto. He’s sitting, legs crossed, out front of Ignis’ apartment. He shoots to his feet when Ignis makes his way closer, shirt folded over his arm.

He moves forward, pulling out his keys to unlock the door. “Did Noctis call you?” he asks, unsure.

Prompto makes a face. “About what?”

Green eyes turn up, then back down to the lock. He pulls the door open, stepping through without bothering to close the door in his wake. He hears it close anyway. It isn’t Gladio’s exuberant  _ thud _ or Noctis’ half-hearted  _ clack _ that doesn’t quite make it home. Instead it’s a careful  _ click _ . Prompto closes doors as gently as he can. As quietly as he can.

And then he speaks as softly as a mouse. “So, I, uh… I wanted to apologize.” His voice is  _ scared _ . It shakes. It quivers.

It sends a brick of regret plummeting into Ignis’ stomach.

“Apparently… Apparently sharing clothes is a  _ thing _ for nobility? Like, a thing you don’t do. Ever. And I… I’m not sure why you didn’t stop me, but I still grabbed it. And I’m not sure if… I’m just…”

“You’re fine,” Ignis insists quickly, head nodding with the words even as he feels he might fall over.

“Why didn’t you  _ say _ anything?”

Excuses. Nothing but excuses came to his mind. But he didn’t want to give excuses. He wanted to tell the truth.

But what was the truth?

“Ignis-”

“I didn’t want to,” he admits weakly.

There is a beat of silence. Then a tense, angry hiss. “That’s a sack of bullshit. Did you  _ want _ me to be embarrassed? For Noctis to get on my  _ case _ -”

“That’s not what I  _ meant _ , and  _ he got on my case, too _ ,” Ignis interjects softly.

“... Oh.” What little fight had been in his voice is gone. Fleeing off to some unknown corner and leaving them alone in the room together. “What…” He clears his throat. “What did you mean, then?”

Ignis turns, reaching immediately for Prompto’s coat.

Prompto doesn’t respond at first. Confusion sits in the corners of his eyes. But as the coat slips over his shoulders, he sets down his things on the counter and begins to disrobe.

Their hands undo the zipper of his hoodie. Peel off his shirt. They’re quick to undo the buttons of his pants, kicking off shoes and sliding the rest off over his legs.

Then Ignis reaches for the discarded dress shirt.

“What are we doing?” Prompto asks, almost tearful.

Ignis slides the sleeves over almost limp arms, then quickly buttons the shirt and takes a step back. It billows around him, big everywhere on him, even the neck.

He looks delicate.

He looks delectable.

Dropping to his knees, Ignis immediately crawls between pale legs. He takes Prompto’s soft cock into his mouth, feeling it plup up on his tongue. He kisses the head, lapping at it with something approaching desperation as his hand wraps around the rest of the quickly rising length. Prompto’s cock is curved and uncut, and Ignis tugs back on the foreskin to admire the flushed, plump head. He bends forward again, taking it into his mouth as messily as he can before moving his slick hand back. Before pushing into the taut hole just behind.

Above him, Prompto can barely breathe a gasp, fingers tangling in dark hair.

Ignis begins the search in earnest, curling his finger inside the loosening hole of his lover’s ass. He’s starting to think the bump he’s searching for isn’t there. Or that maybe Prompto isn’t as sensitive as he is. But then…

Then he finds it.

Prompto half collapses against the counter, hands falling away from dark strands to hand desperately against the marble. His voice cracks around a scream as his prostate is carefully massaged, gasping a thick and startled, “ _ Fuck _ .”

Green eyes turn up, drinking the sight in. His eyes watch pale knuckles go white. Watches eyes flutter shut as a pert mouth drops open. His finger goes limp in Prompto’s ass, earning a high whine.

“Keep going,” Prompto urges him desperately. “Please, gods,  _ please _ don’t stop.”

Ignis gives him an extra suck, wiggling his finger in a way he hopes is helpful when he begins to feel Prompto tremble atop him. A hand finds its way back into his hair, jerking him back in time for his cock to jerk and cum to paint the sharp line of a jaw and a tanned throat.

They remain frozen for a long time before they allow Prompto to slip to the floor, collapsing sideways onto the carpet as he breathes wet gasps.

“Are you alright?” Ignis asks, voice hoarse. His lips feel worn away on the insides, mouth tingling unpleasantly from the suction.

“I’m perfect,” is the breathed reply. “I’m… That was amazing.”

“I’m glad,” he whispers back.

Blue eyes slide open, and their gazes meet. Prompto scoots forward, arm lifting sleepily to brush a messy face with a thumb. “We should clean you up,” he noted warmly.

“I think I have romantic feelings for you,” Ignis admitted suddenly.

First surprise. Then joy. “Really?” Prompto asks, lips curving up nearly to his eyes.

Ignis’ voice catches on the reply, so he nods instead.

“Good,” is the calm whisper. “Good. I was… I was kinda hoping? I don’t know. I like you, too.”

Bending forward, Ignis presses a kiss to Prompto’s cheek, only to frown as he leaves of smudge of semen against the younger man’s nose.

Prompto laughs.

“We should get cleaned up,” he notes.

“We should,” Prompto replies, staggering to his feet.

Ignis watches him rise, a smile plain on his face.

Fiddling the the cuff of the sleeve, Prompto glances his lover’s way nervously. “What are you smiling about?” he asks. “You aren’t the one who just got off.”

“I like it when you wear my clothes,” he admits quietly.

“Do you?”

“Very much.”

Prompto’s grin is infectious as he suggests, “We should do it more often, then.”

“Yes. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end, guys! Your continued support means a lot to me. Thanks so much for letting me know you've enjoyed it thus far.


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